Collage 386              H u m o u r N e t              03 Feb 1998

CONTENT WARNING: If you have any sense, self respect, dignity, and/or
easily-offended sensibilities, you should press the DELETE key *now*.
The contents of this Collage have been found to cause aggravation and
stomach upset in laboratory mice. They have been edited (the contents,
not the mice) to, um, "tone them down" a bit -- almost to the level
of acceptability for HumourNet -- but the subject matter and some of
the uneditable content will still be found offensive by many.

You've been warned. <g>

          Welcome to the first-ever "Darwin Collage."

Just over a year ago, Prime Risk -- a HumourNet subscriber whose
parents apparently disliked him to a sufficient degree that they
actually gave him that name -- recommended to me a mailing list at
York University in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. The name of the mailing
list was "Darwin and Natural Selection."

Ostensibly, the list's purpose is discussion of Sir Charles Darwin's
theory of evolution. In practice, the list's purpose is discussion
of the more flamboyant and impressive methods by which some people
remove themselves from the gene pool.

The list has some of the best writers I've run across on the Internet.
It also has its own vernacular. A few of the more ubiquitous
Darwinisms are included here to help you better comprehend the rest
of the Collage:

    cleansing -- removal from the gene pool
    tard -- someone who is prime for a cleansing
    Father D., Chuck, English gentleman, etc. -- the omni-present
                                                 Charles Darwin

We start off this Collage with one of my posts from last summer.
It details a car accident that I witnessed on my way to work one
morning, and exemplifies the concept of the "tard" (if not the
actual cleansing):

* * * * *

Subject: Almost a Double Cleansing in Maryland

Today, the DarwinCam(tm) takes us to Adelphi, Maryland -- where the
deer and the bad-ass boys play. On the streets.

This one was a very impressive encounter between two TardMobiles(tm).
Like most auto accidents, though, you must work with me to construct
a picture of the scene ...

Imagine, if you will, a relatively gentle downhill grade to a
traffic-light-controlled intersection. Four lanes of rush-hour
traffic -- two each way. At the intersection, the two lanes in my
direction open into a third lane for left-hand turns -- controlled
by a left arrow at the traffic light.

On the fourth-quadrant corner (ObMathChallenged: The corner on the
right side, approaching the intersection) is a gas station, with an
exit on my side just prior to the intersection.

This gas station exit was designed by the ChuckMeister, himself; it
has already served as the vehicle, so to speak, of Darwinian
deliverance on many an occasion -- as it nearly did once more on
this day.

We enter the present tense ...

The light is red, and traffic is backed up, as always. I'm stopped
in the left-hand travel lane just prior to the gas station exit, and
pulled up short so that folks looking to exit to the left have a
clear area in front of me. (It's a relatively long traffic light.)

Enter Chrissie, a.k.a. "Tard 1." Chrissie spends way too much time
thinking about makeup and clothing to be driving a car. Today, she
is considering making a left-hand turn out of the gas station,
having recently used Daddy's credit card to fill up, undoubtedly so
that she can go use Daddy's credit card at the Big Mall Sale not too
far away. Summers are bad for Chrissie, because she's not protected
within a nice, safe classroom.

She sees that I have left a space in front of my car, so she
attempts to occupy that space -- and does so in a most Darwinian
fashion: without looking to see if there is any traffic in the RIGHT
lane, of which she would normally have had a crystal clear view,
were it not for her blue-tinted contacts. ("But Daddy, all the most
popular girls have blue eyes!")

One pair of soiled shorts and a little bit of wasted rubber later,
the car that was traveling down the right-hand lane has stopped
short of actual contact, having successfully demonstrated the
utility of the Pay-Attention-While-Driving gene. Chrissie bats her
pretty blue eyes, and gives him her best I'll-go-home-now-and-dye-
my-hair-blonde look.

Normally, the excitement would end right there. Not today. The
Chuckster is obviously gunning for this chick -- as is most of the
high school football team.

We'll take a quick detour for a moment, and will return to
Chrissie/Tard 1 shortly.

Enter the vehicle of near Darwinian deliverance, being driven by
Richard -- a.k.a. "Tard 2." Dick, as I'm sure his friends refer to
him, is a bad-ass pickup drivin', mouth breathin', fight-startin,
don't-screw-with-me TrailerTrash tard. He also has poor judgment, as
becomes a true tard.

He is about 12 cars behind me, in the same lane. While Tard #1 was
trying unsuccessfully to transfer paint from her driver's door to
some other guy's front bumper, Tard #2 was watching the left-hand
traffic signal go from red to green, and realized that it was about
to turn yellow at any moment. Not content to let the world pass him
by, Dick decides to take his bad-ass truck -- complete with enough
after-market add-ons to make even Michael Jackson jealous, *AND* (I
swear to god) a bumper sticker that reads "Bad Ass Boys Drive Bad
Ass Toys" -- across the double yellow line, and drive down the
[currently empty] left lane for oncoming traffic, in an attempt to
make the left-hand traffic signal before it turns red.

To do this, he has to accelerate his bad-ass truck quite a bit.

Now we return to The Tard Of The First Part, Chrissie. Remember her?
She has just finished looking really sheepish at the fellow who
nearly parked his engine on her lap. Meanwhile, Tard 2 has just
crossed the (I repeat) double yellow lines, and is accelerating as
quickly as his Bad Ass Toy will take him.

Chrissie, apparently upset that Daddy's credit card was nearly
struck by a car, fails to notice the Bad Ass Vehicle of Darwinian
Deliverance that is approaching from the left. She crosses in front
of me and proceeds to pull out, when her passenger (another Daddy's-
Credit-Card-Enhanced brain child, mind you) must have said something
to draw Tard 1's attention to their predicament. Chrissie finally
looks to the left, only to see Tard 2 bearing down on her -- and
still accelerating.

Here is where it gets fun.

I could see that Tard 2's chewing-tobacco-powered brain managed to
realize what was about to happen -- but slowing down would mean
missing the light. No sense working this hard just to miss the
light, so "I'll just swerve a little to the right, and pass right
behind her as she clears out from in front of me."

Uncle Chuck, of course, had other plans for the dynamic duo.

As Chrissie's "Powered By Revlon" brain comprehended just how bad
her situation was about to become, an elderly English gentleman
appeared in her back seat; leaning forward, he whispered into
Chrissie's beautifully jewelry-adorned ear, "Be the deer, Chrissie.
Be the deer."

Chuck's a pretty influential guy; Chrissie slammed on the brakes.

We now return to TardMobile 2 -- which is approaching TardMobile 1
at Bad Ass Speed(tm), and has already started the swerve-to-the-
right maneuver. As the words of his high-school Driver's Ed teacher
came back to him, "Always expect the unexpected, DickieBoy," he
realized that he had once again failed to properly anticipate
another one of life's little surprises. The Dickster immediately
tried to swerve back to the left, but another English gent by the
name of Newton appeared, and attempted to explain how that "first
time-derivative of momentum" thingy works -- which, of course, was
about as successful as explaining thermodynamics to Chrissie.

In an impressive explosion of radiator fluid, TardMobile 2 impacted
TardMobile 1 dead on the front quarter panel with enough force to
propel the somewhat rearranged AskMeAboutMaryKay Mobile nearly into
the intersection. The two vehicles came to a rest in a side-by-side
fashion about 20 meters (ObMetricChallenged: about 66 feet) or so
from the point of impact.

As it turned out, I was the only one who stayed until the police
arrived to take names and numbers. I've no doubt that Chrissie will
have to make an extra trip to Victoria's Secret to replace her
undies. And Dick will have to make many, many trips to Trak Auto
(ObTrackAutoChallenged: A second-rate auto-parts store that happens
to be well overstocked with after-market add-ons that have high
TardAppeal(tm)) to put his Bad Ass Toy back to its pre-impact
status, lest it not draw the proper level of admiration from the
local tardettes at Bob's Bar and Grille.

But there's one piece of equipment that he *won't* have to purchase:
His "Bad Ass Boys Drive Bad Ass Toys" bumper sticker; that was ever-
so-thankfully on his *rear* bumper, and thus survived unscathed. (I'm
sure that the police who wrote up the accident report were suitably
impressed by it.)

Uncle Chuck prefers those bad-ass chlorinations. I've no doubt that
he'll be back for these two.

Yours in Natural Selection,
Vince

* * * * *

Starting things off here is Jerry in Oregon, with "The One That
Didn't Get Away." (This is a news story that also appeared on the
Darwin list; unfortunately, I did not have time to get permission
to re-post the Darwin list version.)

Shayne D., easily one of the better writers on the Darwin list,
brings us "Darwin Is Off Like A Shot And Back In Training";

and Henry W. contributes a piece from his brother (Ted), entitled,
"AmanaTards."

The last two are re-posted from the Darwin list, and are included
here with permission of their respective authors. I'd like to thank
all three contributors, and especially Shayne and Ted for allowing
me to post their material here. (BTW, please do not ask me for
subscription instructions to the Darwin list. You wil have to find
the list on your own -- though you might find a hint or two buried
in this Collage somewhere. ;-)

Yours in natural selection ...

- Vince Sabio
  HumourNet Moderator
  HumourNet@telephonet.com

NOTE: No laboratory mice were harmed in the production of this Collage.

____________________________________________________________________
          Opener (above) Copyright 1998 by Vincent Sabio
  Permission is hereby granted to forward or post this "Collage";
  please observe the guidelines stated at the end of the message.
____________________________________________________________________

SUBJ: The One That Didn't Get Away

MAN DIES TRYING TO SWALLOW LIVE FISH
Akron, Ohio (AP) January 30, 1998

A man choked to death Thursday after trying to swallow a live
5-inch fish on a dare.

Paramedics removed the aquarium fish from 23-year-old Michael
Gentner's throat but could not resuscitate him. "They could see the
tail still sticking out of his mouth" said fire Lt. Dennis Ragins.

Three unidentified friends had called 911 to say Gentner had a fish
stuck down his throat and was having trouble breathing.

[Editor's Note: It was supposed to have been a *goldfish*, Michael;
they go down much more easily. BTW, Shayne Dark posted the same story
to Darwin; his version had the following epilogue, which I found most
entertaining. </vs>]

    When the paramedics arrived they could still see the flapping
    tail of the fish, protruding from the blueing lips of our
    hero. Although they were able to remove the scaled snack
    treat from Michael's throat, they were unable to resuscitate
    him. No word was given on the condition of the fish. When
    informed of the situation, the police were overcome with
    laughter, but did not think that charges would be pressed in
    the death. A quote from police Maj. Mike Matulavich sums up
    the entire situation.

        If I dare you to jump off a bridge and you do it, and
        you're 23 years of age, you're stupid.

    Sniff ... That was beautiful ... A veritable Shakespeare of
    the law enforcement set, Mike Matulavich has captured a
    fragment of the swirling mass of humanity and has given it
    literary light.

========================[ H U M O U R N E T ]=======================

SUBJ: Darwin Is Off Like A Shot And Back In Training
By Shayne Dark <Shayne.Dark@NRC.CA>

Ok, I'll admit it, there is something about fishing that appeals to
me. You take a creature with the brain the size of a pinhead and
drag it out of its environment, thrusting it into a place where it
can barely breathe, and is surrounded by people that basically want
to stave in its head. I guess it is like the first day of high
school. Now, fishing in and of itself is not a dangerous sport, but
with the proper application of poor location, equipment, and copious
alcohol, it can become as dangerous as any of the extreme
Darwin-approved sports.

We journey now to the Cynthiana, Kentucky and Mr. Edward Taylor.

Eddie baby was an avid fisherman who decided that the best place to
do his angling was from a Keller Crossing. Armed with worms, beer
and about four actively firing neurons, Eddie was walking cross the
bridge when a train had the temerity to sneak up behind him whilst
he was getting heavily into his 'be the fish' mojo. The engineer,
knowing that tard is extremely hard to get off the grill, started
sounding the horn in an attempt to get Eddie off the tracks; this
technique is very effective on cattle, but apparently the average
bovine has more on the ball than our hero. Rather than jumping off,
or getting out of the path, Eddie chose this moment to do his
impression of Jessie Owens and took off down the track, trying to
claim the Olympic record for not getting hit by a locomotive.

Seeing the fine example of natural selection in action, the engineer
slammed on the emergency brakes, but to no avail -- Eddie was struck
by the train and became one with the universe and the cow-catcher.

========================[ H U M O U R N E T ]=======================

SUBJ: AmanaTards
By Ted Rosen <hamster@nas.com>, Bellingham, Washington

I had to share this phone call I received with y'all. We all know
how dumb some folks can be, but this woman scored so high on my
"dumb-caller" meter that the needle wrapped around the retaining
pin.

This is not verbatim, but it's pretty damn close:

"ring-ring! ring-ring!"

Me: Hello! Eee-lectronic Service!

Caller: Hello. I think my microwave needs to get fixed.

Me: OK, What happened? Did it stop heating food or is it just dead?

Caller: Well, actually, it has a hole in it.

Me: A hole? Where? In the cavity -er- the inside where the food
goes?

Caller: Yes. Right in the back of the inside, near the bottom.

Me: Does this hole go all the way through the metal?

Caller: Yes, it does, but that's not the problem.

Me: Actually, that sounds like a big problem to me.

Caller: Oh no. It's run for years like that.

Me: (stunned silence)

Caller: The hole goes all the way through, it's about a half inch by
a half inch. But it worked fine until my boyfriend worked on it.

Me: Ma'am, I don't think it's advisable for you to run that
microwave under any conditions.

Caller: Well, I can't now! It won't work!

Me: No, really ma'am. I think you should replace that microwave.
Unplug it, clip the power cord so no one else will use it and throw
it away. Then get a new one.

Caller: But it's a good microwave!

Me: Ma'am, I would strongly advise against repairing this microwave.

Caller: Oh, I dunno! It's a good brand! Let me tell you what
happened, OK? My boyfriend tried to fix the hole by putting some JB
Weld in there. D'ya know what that JB Weld stuff is?

Me: (Hand over my eyes) Yes.

Caller: Well, he put that stuff in and let it dry out. Then we tried
the microwave but a bolt of lightning sparked inside and now it
don't work at all.

Me: Ma'am, I cannot stress how dangerous this microwave is. Let me
ask you: did the hole go right through the metal?

Caller: Yes.

Me: So you could see the inside of the microwave from the vent holes
in the back?

Caller: Well, I guess you probably could, yes.

Me: Ma'am, I don't know how to break this to you, but you've been
exposing yourself to some fairly high levels of microwave radiation.

Caller: Is that bad?

Me: It isn't good.

Caller: Will that stuff hurt me? I mean, don't the manufacturers fix
it so it won't hurt you? How could they do that?

Me: Well, the manufacturers do take steps to make sure the door is
shut very tight before the microwave will work. This keeps it from
accidentally leaking.

Caller: You mean I've been radiated? And my kids?

Me: Well, the radiation loses power quickly the farther it goes from
the microwave. If you were standing close to it while it cooked,
that's probably worse than going to another room.

Caller: I can't remember if I've done that or not. Should I see a
doctor?

Me: Well, I don't think you'll set off a Geiger counter or anything.
I'm not sure what the effects might be; I'm no doctor.

Caller: But what about the microwave? Can it be fixed?

Me: Ma'am, you best unplug that thing, clip the cord so no one else
tries to use it, throw it out and buy a new one. Really.

Caller: But why? It's a good microwave! Can't you fix it?

Me: Well ma'am, for one thing, the integrity of the cavity has been
compromised. Once I fix the blown components, you'll still have a
destroyed cavity. Throw it out.

Caller: But my boyfriend removed all the JB Weld. The hole looks
just like it did before he put that stuff in there.

Me: Ma'am, I'm being quite serious about this. That microwave is
dangerous. Do not fix it. Throw it out and buy a new one.

Caller: I don't see why you can't fix it.

Me: Ma'am I cannot replace an entire cavity. It would cost more than
a new microwave. Buy a new one and throw that thing out.

Caller: (sighs) Oh, well. I guess I'll have to if you won't fix it.

Me: I'm being quite serious, ma'am. That thing is dangerous.

Caller: Oh, I dunno. It worked fine until my boyfriend got a hold of
it.

Me: Ma'am, that thing is dangerous. I cannot fix that hole and I
wouldn't want you to use it again even if I could. That microwave is
an accident waiting to happen. Throw it away and buy a new one.
Really.

Caller: Oh, well. I'll see what I can do. If I have to, I'll buy a
new one. Goodbye.

Me: Goodbye.

********************************************************************
 Anyone Without a Sense of Humor Is At The Mercy of The Rest of Us.
********************************************************************

"HumourNet" is brought to you by Lyris -- an innovative new e-mail
list server from The Walter Shelby Group, Ltd. For more information
on Lyris, see <http://www.lyris.com/>.

To subscribe to the "HumourNet" mailing list, send the following
command to <lyris@lyris.net>:

subscribe HumourNet your_name, your_city, your_state or country

where "your_name" is your real name, etc. If you run into problems,
then either (1) send any message to <HumourNet-info@lyris.net> for
a more detailed set of instructions, (2) subscribe via Lyris's Web
interface at <http://www.lyris.net/>, or (3) send a *detailed*
description of the problem to <Listmom@telephonet.com>.

To unsubscribe, visit our Web interface at <http://www.lyris.net/>,
forward any HumourNet posting to <leave-humournet@lyris.net>, or see
to your Welcome message for detailed instructions.

For instructions on contributing to HumourNet, send any message to
<contribution-guidelines@lyris.net>.

>>> To acquire subscription instructions for the list discussed in
the opener, send a blank e-mail to <darwin@lyris.net>. Instructions
will be returned to you shortly. <<<

The HumourNet archives can be accessed via the Web and FTP:

    Web: <http://www.humournet.com/HumourNet/>
    FTP: <ftp://ftp.humournet.com/pub/HumourNet/Collage.Archives/>

Permission is granted to forward or post this Collage, provided that
1) the message is forwarded/posted in its ENTIRETY, from the line
containing the Collage number and date to the end of this trailer,
and 2) no fee is charged.

Also: Be *SURE* to remove the footer (with your e-mail address)
from this message before forwarding it!

There are "relaxed" forwarding/posting guidelines available; for a
copy of them, send any message to <posting-guidelines@lyris.net>, or
refer to your Welcome message.

********************************************************************
    "HumourNet" is a trademark of HumourNet Communications, Ltd.
********************************************************************
</collage386>